A Brother Is Born

Chapter One

Whoa, Alex, what are you after?

The sudden question was almost my downfall, or at least the downfall of the hot pan of brownies. I managed to hold on long enough to drop it on the stove, then turned to my cousin with a gasp.

Are you trying to kill me? Or just ruin dessert? And what are you talking about?

I thought you heard me come in. Johnny took a seat on the counter and swung her slender legs gracefully. Her thick red curls cascaded down her back in gorgeous tangles, and her long split skirt accented her willowy figure.

Our boyish nicknames always confused people who didn’t know us, since no one would ever have mistaken us for boys—especially Johnny. I tried hard not to envy her, but I would have given anything to make my limp, mousy-brown hair curl, or to stand only a few inches shorter than our brothers. Not that I blamed Johnny. My petite build—Aunt Liz’s nicer way of saying short—wasn’t her fault, and besides, it was impossible to stay mad at my cousin for more than a minute at a time.

She knew it, too, and the mischievous glint in her hazel eyes matched the sunlight sparkling off her curls as she nodded toward the pan on the stove.

Double chocolate fudge brownies? With Jess’s birthday more than a month away? Which of your chores do you want him to take? Or which of his books do you want to borrow?

It’s not like that. I turned away quickly, hoping Johnny wouldn’t spot the warmth creeping into my face. Her suspicion was wrong, but there was enough truth behind it to redden my cheeks in the awkward way I detested.

I’d planned all month to make the cherry pie that was Uncle Ted’s favorite, but something Jess had said the night before had suddenly changed my mind. It wasn’t much—an offhand comment about me not inheriting Mom’s sewing genes as he watched Johnny fixing the button I’d snarled—but it had gotten me thinking, wondering if he still missed Mom and Dad sometimes the way I did.

We didn’t talk about them much—hadn’t since the accident, really. Life with Aunt Liz and Uncle Ted’s family hadn’t left us much time to be lonely, and I wasn’t sure I’d even know what to say to Jess if we had ever found ourselves alone. But knowing that he still remembered—that our new family hadn’t totally crowded out the memories of the old—had somehow made me want to curl up next to him and lay my head on his shoulder. Since I wasn’t sure how Jess would react to that, I’d tried to find the next best thing.

Aunt Liz’s pantry was always well stocked, and it hadn’t been hard to change my plans to the brownies instead of the pie. But I hadn’t expected anyone to notice—except maybe Jess—and I knew Johnny wasn’t convinced. I tried to shrug off her question.

I’m not after anything. I just felt like brownies this week. That’s all.

Mm-hmm. Johnny studied me skeptically for another minute, then she grinned and shrugged. But next time you don’t want something from me, I’ll take strawberry shortcake, please.

You’re terrible. I had to laugh as I reached past her for the toothpicks. Besides, we’ve had strawberry shortcake all summer.

My strawberry shortcake, not yours or Mom’s. Johnny shook her head with a grimace.

It’s not that bad, I told her.

Not that good either. But at least it beats the s’more and pudding kings.

I laughed again.

I think Ty could probably do better if he tried. Jess is pretty much hopeless. And if you find something else to make, maybe I’ll give the shortcake a try. Not next month, though. I still owe your dad a cherry pie.

So I just need to find a way to get on your good side.

Johnny! I looked up from the oven mitts I was putting away with a stab of pain at the thought that she could ever question whether I loved her.

Kidding! Kidding. Johnny raised her hands, then grinned mischievously. But not about the shortcake.

Speaking of hopeless. I shook my head with a sigh of relief as my brother’s mess of sandy curls appeared in the doorway.

Two cars, Johnny, so it’s you and me. You want to have Alex bring dinner down to the shop? Or do you think you can get finished in time?

At almost sixteen, Jess was the oldest of our group—the pack, Uncle Ted called us—about five months older than our cousins and a little more than a year older than me. He took the lead in just about everything, and none of us minded, especially since Johnny and Ty could always manage to put him back in his place when he got too full of himself.

I’m less than a minute behind you, smarty. Johnny gave a defiant shake to her loose ponytail as she jumped down from the counter. Might even beat you today, so watch it. Coming, Alex?

Soon as I cover this. I pulled a bread cloth from the drawer, and Jess took a step closer and leaned over to look in the pan.

Come on, no frosting? What kind of a baker are you?

The kind who can actually—oh, I don’t know—bake? I hadn’t heard Ty come up behind me, but I sensed his cheerful grin and the twinkle in his eyes before I turned around. And those of us who can’t make a boxed pudding without lumps the size of softballs have no call to talk. Come on, guys, Dad’s waiting, and neither of you’ll finish on time if you don’t get started.

Johnny darted out the door in a flash with Jess right behind her. Ty paused with his hand on the knob and glanced back at me.

Coming?

I nodded and sighed, not sure I could really blame Jess for his lack of appreciation when I was the one who had forgotten that no amount of chocolate counted as a complete dessert in his eyes unless it was smothered in as much frosting as Aunt Liz would allow. With a little shrug, I threw the bread cloth over the brownies and hurried behind the others down the hill to Uncle Ted’s shop.

Some of the kids at church thought it was strange that Johnny and I changed oil with the boys, but there were a lot of things about our family that they didn’t understand. Any chore was more fun when the four of us were together, and if the boys had to take their turns in the kitchen, it was only fair that Johnny and I help with the shop work. For that matter, Johnny had consistently proven that in the shop she, at least, was a force to be reckoned with.

Jess knew it, too, for all his joking, and I could see the determined glint in his blue eyes as he and Johnny grabbed their tools. Johnny had been steadily gaining on his record for months, and Jess had no intention of letting himself be beaten—especially not by a girl, and one several months younger than him at that.

Ty slipped the stopwatch from its peg and scrutinized his twin sister for a second before turning to Jess, his dark eyes flashing with mischief.

I don’t know about this, Jess. She’s got that freight train look again. Might be smarter just to get out of the way.

Are you kidding? Jess’s tone was supremely cocky, but he kept his hand poised on the hood of the Toyota as he waited for the start. She better save her steam for her knitting.

Crochet. One needle. With a hook. That the stitches don’t stay on. Johnny repeated the list for the hundredth time as she flipped her thick ponytail upside down and bundled it under her baseball cap.

Does it look like I care, Jo-an-na? Jess grinned as he drawled out her full name, and Johnny shrugged as she pulled herself upright again and tucked in the last loose strands.

Fine, Jess-e. It’s your image. If you want to be the girl yelling ‘touchdown’ when someone crosses home plate, I won’t stop you.

You think learning the different kinds of needle-things girls use is good for my image?

Won’t hurt if you ever have a girlfriend.

Well, maybe I’m not after the crafty type. Jess made a face at her, and I clapped my hand over my mouth to cover my smile. As far as I knew, my brother had never before been goaded into admitting that he had a type.

Johnny’s grin broadened.

So you want a sports fan bookworm that gets meaningful conversations out of ‘hmm...mm...uh-hmm’? You may notice, I said ‘if.’

Johnny’s impression of Jess when engrossed in books or sports was so spot-on that I laughed out loud, and even Ty snorted as he settled himself on the stool behind the counter.

Your mark, Alex. His eyes danced as he looked over at me. Unless you have any wise remarks on yarn crafting or Jess’s doubtful romantic prospects.

No smart comebacks came to mind, so I shrugged.

Might as well get started. I assume you guys do want dinner tonight.

Ouch! Ty raised his eyebrows, and his grin widened.

I hadn’t actually meant it to be funny, but it worked well enough now that I thought about it. I smiled as I climbed onto the counter and lifted my hand for the signal.

All right, shop rats—mark, set, go!

Chapter Two

Get ready to mark!

One of the hoods fell shut with a bang, and I opened my eyes to a flood of warm August sunlight from the big bay doors, broken only by a tall, solitary shadow in the vague shape of my brother. The next instant, it was gone, and Jess disappeared beneath the Toyota again just as Johnny slapped the hood of the Dodge into place and paused to brush back a stray curl that had escaped her baseball cap.

Both of them had been too intent on their work to talk much, and aside from the shop noises and Ty’s occasional commentary, the contest had been unusually quiet. I wondered if Johnny realized how much of a compliment the silence was; Jess obviously wasn’t confident enough to risk being even a little distracted.

Where are we? Johnny panted as she wriggled underneath the Dodge to check her work.

I glanced at Ty, who did the sportscaster routine much better than I did, but he had his eyes glued to the stopwatch, so I sat up on the counter and took up the narration.

It’s Jess by a neck coming into the straightaway, but don’t go anywhere, folks. If that bolt isn’t tight enough, there’s still a chance he gets a face full of oil.

Keep it up, and you’ll end up with a face full of oil, Jess grumbled from his invisible position. And in your dreams, Johnny. I don’t—ow!

Jess’s wrench hit the floor with a clatter, and Ty’s head shot up.

You okay? he called.

A groan was the only answer for a second, and I gripped the edge of the counter hard.

Yeah, fine, Jess gritted before I could say anything, and I could tell there was more frustration than pain in his tone. Just grazed my knuckles. No blood.

He’s all right, Johnny—go for it! I called, clasping my hands with the double thrill of relief and excitement that shot through me.

Better watch it, Jess; she’s right on your tail, Ty warned.

Jess grunted in answer, and a few seconds later, a flourish of his wrist sent his wrench spinning across the floor of the shop.

Done! He pushed himself out from under the Toyota and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

Done! Johnny echoed, rolling out from under the Dodge and springing to her feet with an elastic bound.

Ty gave the stopwatch a second click and shook his head with mock gravity as he scribbled in the notebook we kept behind the counter.

Not bad—if you’re Johnny. That’s three seconds off her personal best, and she just missed beating you by a hair.

Bolt was stripped. Jess wiped his hands on a rag and fished his wrench out from underneath the counter.

No excuses, remember? Johnny shook her finger at him. That puts me what—about thirty seconds behind you?

Thirty-two. Ty shut the notebook with a grin and slid it back in its place.

And the overall record? Johnny asked.

Not even close. I’ve still got just under a minute on Jess’s best.

From the Ford with the filter half off already. Johnny wrinkled her nose at him.

Hey, no excuses, remember? Ty reached across the counter and flicked the brim of her baseball cap over her eyes, and Johnny pulled it off with a laugh and tossed it onto the shelf, letting her curls fall free.

Finished? Uncle Ted appeared in the office door, and Johnny grabbed the clipboard from Jess, scrawled her initials, and handed it over. Uncle Ted scanned it and glanced up at me with a smile. That puts you up for the next one, Alex.

Okay with me. I shrugged.

If she can remember which wrench is which. Jess reached over and tweaked one of my braids as I slid off the counter.

I haven’t mixed up wrenches in years, I protested, backing quickly out of his reach.

Months, Jess argued.

Over a year! I was barely thirteen.

She’s beat her personal best three times running, Ty put in, and I shot him a grateful smile.

And remember, it’s not every girl who can do an oil change at all—wrench or no wrench. Uncle Ted’s hand rested on my shoulder for a second, and I glanced up in time to catch his